


July

by Kiyashire



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, like there is definitely a blowjob but nothing explicit, mildly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyashire/pseuds/Kiyashire
Summary: It was summer, and it was so, so hot.





	July

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on tumblr on May 2, 2014. Lightly edited to de-purple some prose.

There had to be a point, Roxas reasoned, between polarities, someplace where they met in the center and warred; there had to be, because how perfect would that be, finding a midpoint between hot and cold and things that were not supposed to touch.

It was hot, here.

It was hot and his mind was wrapped up in obligations and daylight hours and video games he would much rather be wasting time on than summer work, and Xion—a lot of Xion in his thoughts, because she was cute and flirty and therefore, by dictation of summertime’s cruel allowances, vacationing out of the country for two months and unreachable. It was hot and he remembered that he’d left the fan off even though he was sweating the minute he’d been forced awake by humanity’s cruel inability to hibernate through July. It was hot, especially, under his skin. And in between his fingers, coarse and sweaty hair, hot—red like afterimages burned onto the backs of his eyelids by the sun, like a threat.

There had to be a reason, see, to  _thinking_  of all these things. He figured that the Rolodex in his head had started spinning somewhere between a wayward, offhanded comment about the shitty weather and ended on the couch with Axel’s head buried between his thighs.

Roxas wasn’t even sure who he was looking at. Half the time he swore he saw Xion grinning up at him, playful and soft and  _sexy_ , and then there was Axel, who was not playful and had bones that dug into his skin and couldn’t be sexy if he tried, because he was a  _guy,_  first off; he didn’t come with the equipment to be sexy.

But Roxas’s hands were caught in Axel’s hair and curling. The air around them was shivering from the heat. He was sure it was.

Axel shifted on his elbows, knocked against one of Roxas’s legs. Roxas kept his eyes closed and hissed, appreciating the imaginings of color composing another person’s face in his mind before they got too close to reaching red and green. This was the beauty of it, he thought, the fact that psychology could explain it, pictures behind his irises; neural impulses and synapses and Xion was smirking up at him again, licking her brainwave lips—

“You know this isn’t gay, right.”

Any and all sense of that perfect perception scattered into an afterthought. Roxas coughed out a breath, tried to focus his eyes. “What?”

“This isn’t gay.” There was enough certainty in Axel’s voice to convince a pastor.

“Fucking—” Roxas tightened his fingers until Axel curled his lip. “Jesus fucking Christ, Axel, just say no homo and  _get on with it_.” Hips tilted forward and hands tugged back down, and he just barely caught the sneer on Axel’s lips.

“Stop acting so excited,” he said, swiping at his forehead with an arm. “You getting off on this ‘cause it’s me? You into that or something?”

“I’m not—” Roxas paused until he could wrangle his mouth back into the shape of words as Axel licked a line up to his naval. “I’m not the one with a dick in my mouth.”

“Hey man, I  _told_  you, this means  _nothing_. It’s called calling in a favor.” The words were like a growl now, delivered with narrowed eyes and burning skin. “Do you yap this much when you’re fucking Xion?”

“Haven’t.”

Axel paused, ignoring the concentrated rage shaking in Roxas’s eyes. “Seriously?”

“Mmh.”

“Damn. So she’s free, then?”

“I swear to God, if you can’t actually finish what you started I’m going to just leave and handle it myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” Axel said, and the possessiveness in his voice registered for a fraction of a second before Roxas was scratching nails over his scalp again.

It was hot, he remembered. The fan was off and the window was latched shut behind them. Swirling particles of dust caught in the light, thousands of them, and he reached for anything that was real and solid and not hovering between his legs, because now he couldn’t get a clear image of Xion without Axel hanging over her and he was  _not_  going to get off while looking his best friend in the eye. Especially not when Axel kept making those little noises.

Another bead of sweat traced down his spine, slowly.

He didn’t feel bad when Axel finally pulled away, gagging and coughing—swearing in at least two languages to at least four different gods—because he had it coming to him. Because it was summer and they were both crazy with fever and seeing everything tilted just a degree to the left, like their logic; subliminal undercurrents in everything. Axel had been the one to offer. Roxas hadn’t hesitated, but that meant nothing— _nothing_ , he told himself, a mantra condensed into his lungs like cysts. Just friends fucking around because heat stroke was almost as potent as drugs, and twice as easy.

Axel stretched forward until his forehead knocked against Roxas’s. “You,” he hissed, and Roxas wrinkled his nose at the smell on his breath, “ _asshole_.”

“Might wanna check for some Listerine there, princess.”

“I am going to fucking _gut_ you.”

“Try.” Roxas noted, absently, that he could kiss him if he shifted half an inch closer. Axel seemed to realize this at the same time.

Xion was out of the country for the summer, he thought. The temperature was so, so high, now.

He didn’t move forward. Axel did.

It was awkward and unsure and involved Axel nipping at his lips when he pulled away—always teeth with him—but it was soft enough that it left Roxas only half feeling like he needed to chug peroxide, which was a step, he guessed. They wore matching frowns and considered the other.

“Gay,” Roxas said.

“I’m fairly certain I already laid down a  _no homo_ , and those conditions are binding.”

“You sure about that?”

“Check the fine print. It’s a blanket statement.” Axel paused before he pressed in again, hummed against Roxas’s mouth. “It’s not gay if you don’t call it romantic.” Again. “So keep it straight.” Again. “Got it?”

He had time to note how Axel’s hair plastered horizontally across his forehead when it was sweaty, and the fact that he was clueless about how this was supposed to work in the first place, before he was pushed onto his back again, shuffling to make room on the couch for two. Axel panted passive aggressive threats down at him and he rasped back his own to the tune of their breathing.

If anyone happened to ask them later where their clothes had gone, well, they could blame it on the weather.

 


End file.
